


Rebecca Catalina's Marvelous Escort Services

by orphan_account



Series: Fullmetal Fortnight 2014 [19]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/F, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rebecca Catalina is recruited to escort Maria Ross on her escape to Xing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebecca Catalina's Marvelous Escort Services

**Author's Note:**

> Written for FMA Week 2014. Prompt 11-A: "Alternate Universe".
> 
> Also, I love you guys, because I literally put up that requests for prompts and within _fifteen minutes_ I had three in my inbox. I picked my favourite: "fma au in which everything is the same except becky goes with maria to xing pre relationship please just cute flirting make becky GAY AS HELL".
> 
> Unbeta'd/unedited due to length. Enjoy!

The desert sun glinted over the dunes of silica quartz. Rebecca Catalina shielded her eyes against the burning glow with a lifted arm. “You sure I’ll get my vacation time back for this?” she grumbled.

Hawkeye’s boss’s other subordinate—Colonel What’s-His-Face’s redheaded sandwich aficionado—passed her the waterskin. “Don’t worry. The chief has it all covered back home. They’ve arranged a deal with Grumman.”

“Sure.” Throwing her head back, she took a long gulp; the liquid flown, cool and refreshing, down her throat, and her throat bobbed. “Well. Guess I better get this show on the road, huh? Oh. That reminds me. Yoo, Eddie-boy!”

The Fullmetal Alchemist, rubbing his sore thighs from the constant horseback riding, glanced up at her with an expression so irritable it would have better suited an eighty-year-old lemon-faced man than a spoiled kid of fifteen years. “What.”

“Tell Riza that she can forget about her little promise to me.” Catalina giggled like a schoolgirl, purposefully, and winked. In the manner of any teenager, Ed coughed awkwardly. “She’ll know what I mean.”

While Ed scribbled down a note for himself on his inner arm, she glanced over at Maria Ross. Her mark. Watching the clouds roll by. Expression unreadable, but set and solemn as Catalina had ever known her.

Not that she did, really.

Catalina exhaled. “Gonna be a long ride, I reckon.”

The redhead chuckled. “Good luck.”

 

The trip across the desert proved not as difficult as Catalina had imagined. In some ways, yes. The constant heat and aridity surpassed even her wildest expectations of discomfort, and the distance between the oases prompted the women to ration their water more carefully after a close run-in with dehydration. However, despite it apparently being bandit season, they slipped through the country unscathed.

And the entire _sharing a sleeping tent at night_ thing didn’t turn out entirely awful. Almost pleasant, to some level. They spoke, mostly. Of Ross’s experiences with the Investigation Department. Of Catalina’s time serving in the Ishval War of Extermination. Of their lives beyond the military. Ross’s avid book reading, mostly into histories and biographies. Catalina’s passion for photography, which she shared with a friend of hers named Havoc. Their mirrored love of animals. Evidently Ross had— _had_ had—a dog. And Catalina, fantastic with animals, had always wanted to raise another one. “Stupid dorm rules. No animals.”

Ross laughed. “Well, if we ever make it out of this alive, you can split with my dog.”

Likewise, they discovered their shared adoration of music. Of the radio. Of the same genres, in fact. Favourite songs, artists, stations. They hummed out melodies in terrible off-key pitches and tried to guess, sang half-remembered chorus lines and bridges when they could, made up lyrics when they could not.

At one point—days later Catalina would find herself unable to explain why or how the conversation took place—Catalina mentioned the sexual harassment she dealt with at work. Ross frowned. Rolled over. For a moment Catalina stared at the rise of the lieutenant’s back, uncertain if the mention had somehow offended her.

Then Ross grunted. “Anyone ever touches you again, let me know. I’ll let ‘em know how to treat a lady.”

 

When they arrived in Xing at last Catalina casually mentioned that she had run out of bullets during the last bandit raid—and really,  _fuck_ those guys, because those guys managed to steal the record collections she’d smuggled with her to Xing, but also  _thank_ those guys, because they managed to one of the horses as well, which meant that Catalina could ride behind Ross and not-so-subtly rest her hands on Ross’s hips—and Ross burst out laughing.

“That’s just _fantastic_.” Catalina crossed her arms. “About you _caring_ so much and all.”

Shaking her head and wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, Ross raised her arms defensively in a particularly un-Ross-like motion. “It’s not that. _I_ ran out of bullets about three days ago and didn’t want to alarm you.”

The women stared at one another as the last convulsions of laughter passed through Ross’s form and slithered into Catalina’s instead. By the time they had hobbled up the path to the village, Ross had to hold the horse’s reins in one hand and Catalina’s elbow in the other. They tottered up to the marketplace, where Ross left Catalina with express instructions not to take her gaze off of the horse and the horse with express instructions to take its gaze off of Catalina. To the merchants, Ross bowed. Spoke in Xingese—with a slight accent, by the mildly perplexed expressions on the merchants’ faces—and procured them a map and fresh horses.

Catalina applauded wildly while Ross checked the map; to her satisfaction Ross’s cheeks had flushed just enough for the former to notice. “Where’d you learn _that_?”

“I’m half-Xingese, from my father’s side,” Ross answered. “He taught me. Adequate to get by, at least.”

“Uh. So.” Catalina cleared her throat. Leaned with her elbow against the side of the merchant stall. Cocked an eyebrow and extended a leg like the typical teenaged boy assumed his perfection _picking up chicks_ pose. “Got any Aerugish in ya?”

Ross lowered her map. Her brow furrowed. “. . . not that I’m aware of, no?”

“ _Want_ some?” With a smirk, Catalina waggled her eyebrows, and Ross slapped her shoulder. Catalina grinned.

The other woman sighed. Brandished the map with a characteristic flutter. “Come on. The capital’s still about three weeks away from here, Miss Aerugish.”

Catalina saddled the horses. “Uh-huh. Well then. Lead the way.”

Ross did, and Catalina followed, silently thanking Hawkeye for her brilliant suggestion.


End file.
